Closure: ’35 Years On’ (Part 3 of 6)

When I undertook my ‘street’ portrait project in 1984, I never thought I would be tramping the streets of Scunthorpe, Lincolnshire 35 years later, revisiting those I photographed…

In 1984, Finch was a popular guy and he still is. He struck me as good humoured, with a realistic outlook on life. He gets on with stuff. Back in the day, Finch was a very active and innovative member of the local music scene; he still makes music and ascribes most of his meaningful friendships to it. His fond recollection of a popular local venue, the Crosby – now closed down – was particularly poignant, so much so that we went there and made some photographs.

Finch is a practical guy – a trait inherited, he says, from his father – and currently spends some of his spare time making improvements to his home; he tackles painting and decorating, plumbing and carpentry with a certain level of skill. He explained to me that all is done by himself, ‘out of necessity, really’. He was turning his attention to his loft space when I visited him so we took a look up there.

Finch (real name Kevin) currently works as a teaching assistant at a local school – he began his career in education as a school bus driver – and enjoys working with youngsters.

‘Where meaningful friendships were formed’: ‘Finch’ at the Crosby, Scunthorpe

In 1984, Sean was studying teaching at Nottingham. He was an early years teacher for a number of years – focussed eventually on special needs – before setting off to broaden his horizons at schools in Hungary, Kenya, Brunei and the United Arab Emirates.

Sean is well known for his part as bassist in a popular local band, Harry The Spider’s Coming Out Party – the name taken from an early 1980s advert for chocolate – which he formed with his brother, Garry. (Talking about this stirred some good memories for me as, when Sean left the band to study, I became the band’s lead guitarist.) They famously appeared at the first ‘Scunthorpe Free Rock’ concert; an all day annual event put on for free by the local council and which ran for four years. Music is very important to him still and he writes and records his own material.

Sean is currently teaching in Scunthorpe.

Kev made a special trip into Scunthorpe to meet me and, after reminiscing about the old days – he is an excellent bass player and played with a couple of Scunthorpe’s more successful bands back in the eighties – we adjourned to a multi-storey car park.

Kev had explained that he was a video cameraman and commercial photographer and that his work – making induction films for companies and shooting motorsport, amongst other things – was primarily based in the UK but had taken him occasionally to europe and the USA. The one thing that struck me as I turned my camera on him was that he bore a resemblance to the songwriter, Brian Wilson. To me only it seems, as he had never been told that before. I’m not certain I got anything like I wanted from my camera, but it was great to meet up with him after all those years. He did take a portrait of me – the best I’ve ever had done – with such technical skill that it left me breathless.

Remembering Simon was a member of a popular local band in 1984, I asked if he had kept up his guitar playing. His response was that he had tried his hand at being a disc jockey and that the experience had ‘tarnished his love of music’. I move on to current interests and discover that he enjoys travelling and is a keen photographer. Then there is: Bridge.

I didn’t know that so many books had been written on Bridge – a popular card game of which I know little about, save that the four players involved are assigned the major compass points – but Simon has a lot of them; hundreds it seemed, glancing at a loaded bookcase. He has, in collaboration with another Bridge expert, designed another language of bidding (I was quite lost at this point, but impressed) called ‘Punk Precision’. Fair play to him. He has played Bridge at county level for both Wiltshire and Lincolnshire and likes to be assigned North or East.

Simon lives in a part of Scunthorpe much developed since the eighties – indeed, I could hardly recognise it – and enjoys family life. He is a draughtsman, a career he embarked upon 40 years ago and which he still pursues.

Many thanks go to those who agreed to take part in this project. 1984 photographs were made using a Mamiya 6×6 camera and the recent photographs were made using an Olympus OMD EM5 Mk II camera.

Closure: ’35 Years On’ (Part 2 of 6)

When I undertook my ‘street’ portrait in 1984, I never thought I would be tramping the streets of Scunthorpe, Lincolnshire 35 years later, revisiting those I photographed…

Paul – who enjoys family life – says he has spent the majority of the past 35 years ‘mostly bothering my wife’ who he met in South London in 1987 and with whom he has three children. Paul began a career in the electrical industry as an apprentice at the steelworks in Scunthorpe and is now Sales Director for a long-established electrical firm.

Paul is a percussionist who has ‘never not had a drumkit’ and he still plays regularly with a popular local band. In his spare time, Paul enjoys restoring classic motorbikes from the 70s and 80s. He works voluntarily for the Forge Project – a charity offering support for homeless and vulnerable people – in Scunthorpe, is a qualified football referee and took part in the Great North Run – the largest half marathon in the world which runs from Newcastle to South Shields and which attracts over 50,000 participants – over 10 succesive years. He admits that now his knees are ‘bolloxed’ he has to take his exercise a little easier.

‘I haven’t moved and I’ve done nowt’ was Scott’s initial response when I asked him what he’d been doing since 1984. From our conversation, however, he is clearly a settled and home-loving chap who is a career laboratory technician. He currently works for a Swedish mining company.

Since 1984 Sue has led a well-travelled life; she spent around 7 years in Amsterdam before busking her way through France, Portugal and Spain – where she tried her hand at fire juggling – living and working as she went. Since her return to the UK, Sue has held a variety of interesting and diverse jobs – manageress of a health farm in Brighton and lifeguarding in Bognor Regis among them – and currently works in the care industry.

Sue studied metalwork and jewellery in Sheffield and is a keen silversmith: she wore some excellent examples of her work for the recent photograph.

Many thanks go to those who agreed to take part in this project. 1984 photographs were made using a Mamiya 6×6 camera and the recent photographs were made using an OMD EM5 Mk II camera.

Chatuchak, Part 2: Vendors

My last blog took a look at the Chatuchak Weekend Market before the crowds descend. In this blog my interest is directed to those who work at this popular Bangkok tourist attraction.

Business had just begun when I made most of these photographs, the narrow alleys of the central section still quickly and easily negotiable. Some stalls were already trading while in others, vendors waited in anticipation of a successful, busy day.

A Moment of Meditation (Coffee Cup): 2017

Looking at this photograph, one thought always occupies me: ‘I wish that coffee cup had not been there’. And it is true; I toned it down a tad, to lessen the impact, but for me it remains – admitted in my title – and anyway, I only have the one shot. It remains a vendor in refective mood rather than: ‘A mildly irritated man who knows that a farang with a camera has just asked if he could move a coffee cup.’

I waited for some time for the photograph above, but I sometimes get the feeling that something may happen to complete an image. In this case I was spotted, an occupational hazard that either works or doesn’t work. Following the moment I did enjoy some friendly banter – an occupational pleasure.

Speaking of conversations, I was talking to a grand old chap at one stall – his excellent English put my Thai speaking skills to shame – when he remarked as a parting shot: ‘yes, the market has many stories, many secrets’. I was on my way home but the vendor’s words got me thinking: untold stories? Hidden away? I wondered if they would ever reveal themselves.

The thousands of visitors Chatuchak attracts each weekend are well catered for, too. I tried the street food: delicious. Hot work when you consider the climate; well into the nineties usually. The lady above was able to engage with the few basic Thai pleasantries I offered, as was her assistant – also pictured above – sitting by her side.

Street portraiture has always interested me; it offers the chance to be a little in control and it presents the challenge of giving the resulting image relevance. I met a young man (portrayed below) outside a small, glass-fronted unit which was brightly lit to show off some very large paintings. We chatted and established the paintings were his work and he agreed to a photograph. I went outside to make the shot, the unit was too small to achieve the framing I felt I needed. What I didn’t anticipate was getting my hand in; by happy accident, in the right place… at the moment of exposure.

Thanks for visiting my blog. For those who like to know, I used an Olympus OMD with a Zuiko short zoom lems to make the photographs.

Chatuchak, Part 1: before the crowds descend

Rendezvous Point: The clock tower dominates the market, 2017

Covering some 27 acres, Bangkok’s Chatuchak Weekend Market is one of the biggest in the world. The market comprises around 15,000 stalls, the bulk of which are arranged grid-like with crisscrossing alleyways – which barely allow the passage of two people abreast – contained within a broad perimeter ‘avenue’. It is from this circulating walkway that the famous Clock Tower can be seen, offering hope for the lost: it is a popular meeting point for that reason. It is here that you can reunite with friends, sit and reflect on the experience or contemplate the wooden ‘croaking frog’ you just bought because, well, one does. I made the photograph above when things came together for me, contre-jour, a little after sunrise. The market largely dormant.

I like to visit the market early morning – before the latest contingent of the 200,000 who visit the market annually – because I have the place to myself. Nearly. Sometimes among the lifeless mannequins, the piles of books, t-shirts, souvenirs and other items, the well worn tarpaulin stretched across goods yet to be revealed… life pops up unexpectedly and the market wakes up.

A benefit, for me, of having a place like Chatuchak to oneself is the chance to look at things closer. Occasionally I spot a detail that gives me a chance to consider what is before me in a more contemplative way, exploring elements of composition, light and shade. This doesn’t happen often, but here are three examples: lights waiting to be switched on, polythene sheets stretched to cover their brimming contents and parasols waiting to be unfurled.

Naturally, as we are in Bangkok, there are oddities: I came across a bust – a replica of some classical work – sat on a table at an intersection in the artists’ zone. It didn’t appear to be on sale and I was having no luck with it. A farang with a briefcase was hurrying along. I picked my moment; on reflection I got it wrong – not the ‘decisive moment’ – but I like it anyway.

I have a wooden frog somewhere, consigned to a box and hidden away. Perhaps I’ll find it one day and be able to tell someone, ‘look, it croaks!’.

Written off, but not forgotten: crashed cars, spare parts and untold stories

Top of the heap, the latest acquisition: 2015

I paid a short visit to a dismantling firm – spur of the moment decision really – in Scunthorpe, Lincolnshire during July of 2015. I had arrived in the town on an early morning train and made my way to the outskirts where once stood the vast buildings and blast furnaces of steelworks.

I was looking for something I could not find: the new warehousing depots and characterless industrial units, some still waiting for occupation, were not it. The weather was deteriorating fast and my getaway toward the town centre took me past a dismantlers’ yard: I remembered finding parts here for my first car – an old Renault 5 – over 40 years previously.

What an odd beauty destruction may bring: 2015

The guy in the office gave me the ‘once’ over – twice – before allowing me in to make photographs. After I’d had a good look around – making shots later to be ignored – I began to look a little closer. Occasionally, among the clutter and chaos, I’d find a few interesting arrangements of distorted metal and displaced parts. Then I made a photograph of an interior and things got a little more philosophical.

The door of this car was missing and I didn’t resist the temptation. I crouched in the passenger side – the seats had been removed – and considered the scene; ‘what were your thoughts at the moment of impact?’, ‘did you have time to have a thought?’. The dashboard was intact; maybe, on the premise that cars are replaceable, this story had a happy ending.

I recalled JG Ballard, whose book, Crash I had enjoyed:

‘A car crash harnesses elements of eroticism, aggression, desire, speed, drama, kinesthetic factors, the stylizing of motion, consumer goods, status – all these in one event.’

I noticed a redundant church that overlooked the scene and found this connection appropriate. As I made the short walk into the town – and shelter – the drizzle had become rain.

For those who like to know, the camera was an Olympus OMD coupled with a Zuiko short zoom lens. Thanks for visiting my blog.

Talat Noi: the project that was, then wasn’t, then was…

Talat Noi is a riverside neighbourhood that sits on the fringes of Bangkok’s Chinatown. I was instantly attracted to it when I made a brief visit in 2017; looking for a project that would be my first in colour – after 40-odd years of monochrome photography – I vowed to return and get cracking. That decision was to cause me a few headaches along the way.

Talat Noi is a collection of streets with one thing in common: salvaged engine parts, millions of them. Great piles of cogs, cylinder heads, axle boxes – all manner of parts. Dirty, oily streets where each workshop is a hive of activity and, I presume, business is done. I wanted my colour photographs to reflect the grime, the ‘unprettiness’ of it all.

I devised a technique using layers in Photoshop; a base layer of a very contrasty monochrome version of the photograph over which I placed the original colour photograph which I then reduced in transparency until the effect of the base layer played apart. I liked the desaturating effect of this on the colour.

Then I realised that I was just trying to get back to my mono comfort zone; my choice of subject was made, not for the colour, but with monochrome in mind. I had long hard look at this; then went back and shot monochrome.

On the whole, it was an unproductive day and very hot. Some of the photographs showed context while some, like the above, did not. But I was getting some interesting (for me) stuff.

Plenty of food vendors about in the community. I had a go at shooting colour and not messing about with it:

I’ve visited Talat Noi half a dozen times and, after trying various techniques, have decided to give it a rest. I’ve really enjoyed my strolls around this fascinating area and am convinced there is the photograph. Just got to find it. As for the car, on my last trip a month or so ago it was still there and still attracting attention:

Thanks for taking the time to visit my blog. All photographs were taken on my OMD EM5 coupled with a Zuiko Digital short zoom lens.

Photography Essentials: Decent Shoes…

By the time I reached my lodgings – a ten minute walk from the bus station – my left foot was very sore. I was in Boston, Lincolnshire and my intention was to make a series of long walks around the surrounding country side, to see what I could see (the photograph above was made during a 13 mile hike the following day). I’d hit a problem before I had even started. I stepped out into the market place and found some excellent and comfortable walking footwear in a sale. Consigning my old shoes to a skip I returned to my room and unpacked my OS maps….

Evacuation Point or ‘This Must be my Portaloo’: Fishtoft, Lincolnshire 2016

The shoes were a success, comfortable as slippers, durable enough for the variety of terrain encountered by the keen walker. Although most of my photography takes place in urban areas, I really enjoy strolling along the byways and footpaths of the UK, particularly those of my home county, Lincolnshire. Photographs may not come often – the two above are all I have to show after a six hour expedition – but how exhilarating to reach the Wash, with a big sky above, and look out over the marsh to the water, recalling my days on the cockle and mussel boats in the late 1970s.

Never did find the roadworks: between Fulstow and Tetney, Lincolnshire 2017

Seats are always a welcome find, particularly those provided as a rest stop….

Sometimes unwanted and discarded, as in the next photograph, in the seeming ‘middle of nowhere’….

Between Ludborough and Fulstow, Lincolnshire: 2017

Pubs can be a welcome sight, particularly during opening hours (this one was closed for renovation)….

Another novelty was the discovery of a fish and chip shop set back from a very quiet little country road out in the sticks….it was closed. I later learned that it had an excellent reputation and that people would travel from miles around for the food…

Top Nosh, near Yarburgh, Lincolnshire: 2017

I love the sense of stillness that you get when you stop somewhere along some remote footpath, away from the hustle and bustle of towns and cities, and just for a minute soak in the view…

And if anyone needs a couple of car seats, I know where you might find some, lol:

Somewhere between Burringham and East Butterwick, Lincolnshire: 2018

Thanks for taking a look at my blog. Now, where did I leave those shoes?

First steps on ‘the road to who knows where?’

Student work: 1973 – 1977

Aged 18, I had an idea to become a fine artist. With that in mind I enrolled on an art foundation course in London, E17. All art disciplines were covered over a year; one of these was photography. For the first time in my life I had a ‘proper’ camera in my hand along with a couple of rolls of film which I would develop myself.

The photograph above shows the children of two families I shared a house with and is on the second roll of film I ever exposed. The first was full of very unremarkable shots; I had chosen the old Covent Garden market as a subject – getting there towards midnight and staying until breakfast – and the tricky lighting, mainly bare fluorescent tubes, was too much for this novice. But I really enjoyed the experience of being there and, despite getting no decent photographs, I was hooked. At the end of the year I applied to undertake a full time course in photography.

The course was split: I did my first year in Nottingham and my remaining two years in Derby. Though I perhaps didn’t know it at the time, the influence that the course had on shaping my outlook (and inlook, if there is such a thing) was immense. In fact, I still haven’t managed to shake it off to this day.

The first book of photographs that really grabbed my attention as a student was ‘A Day Off: An English Journal’ by Tony Ray Jones (1941-1972). It included photographs made at seaside resorts (interesting to me as I was from a seaside resort); over the next couple of years I made several trips to the coast in search of my own seaside. I’m still looking.

Looking back at these photographs, it is interesting to me that my style has not really changed over the years. I find that reassuring.

I hope you’ve enjoyed this small collection of photographs. I’ll leave you with another seaside shot. As for gear, probably Nikon Nikkormat – I didn’t get my own camera until after college – with various Nikon lenses….

Only Joking! And Other Experimental Pieces

I have arrived at my present state, unemployed and close to retirement age – assuming I ever catch up with an ever moving boundary – via bus conducting, commercial fishing, bar keeping and, by far my most enduring occupation, a very modest career as a graphic artist. This said, photography has been my life.

Finding suitable words for this photograph of the destruction of a Scunthorpe steelworks

I have, in the past, been accused of flippancy and have always put my hand up. I know it. In the serious pursuit of the elusive ‘image-that-says-it-all’ there must be a playtime; looked forward to in much the same way as, during my schooldays, the bell that signified the end of prep and a mad dash to the tv room because The Monkees episodes started coincidentally with it.

Image made when I gatecrashed a graduation celebration, Lincoln 2015

To be fair, I wasn’t exactly dressed for the occasion when I made the above photograph and I probably hadn’t shaved either: I couldn’t resist mirroring my subject’s expression with a smiley face.

Sometimes I don’t need such a sophisticated addition to make me chuckle. I have a thing about dots, which I call ‘things’….

Photograph taken in Don Muang, Bangkok 2018

‘Sermon’: Image made in Muang Thong Thani, Bangkok 2014

‘Sermon’ is simply a photograph I made of an ornamental fountain. Camera pushed against a wall to enable a slow shutter speed. Here’s a similarly themed shot made in 1984:

‘Easter, Rising’ Photograph made in Scunthorpe, 1984.

Considered calling it ‘Exodus’ when I played around with it a couple of years ago. To be fair, ‘Photograph taken from moving car during a rapid descent of Mortal Ash Hill, Scunthorpe’ doesn’t have the same ring to it.

The addition of words to images during my experimental moments probably stems from my work as a graphic artist. I always shot my own images for designs I was working on; it was easier than finding a stock image that had the correct places for text etc. Here’s an example:

While the above does not exactly fit with the theme of this blog. Perhaps it demonstrates my point, above. The photograph drew upon the themes of isolation and inner struggle found in the play, perhaps tenuously.

Here is a photograph of me, at a few months old, taken by mum in 1955:

I must have been around 10 years old when I splashed out half my pocket money – threepence – on three little books at a jumble sale in my hometown, Cleethorpes. Each around 12 cms square, they featured the works of the painters: Miro, Klee and Braque. This acquisition formed the foundation of my lifelong interest in art history. Moments like this never leave you and I found myself remembering those little books while I played with the next two images in Photoshop:

When a theme of ‘Black on Black’ cropped up recently in a small photographic group I belong to I decided to ditch the camera and work in Photoshop from scratch. Although calling it a photograph is stretching it a bit, the process recalls the days I used to play around in the darkroom, making photograms.

This has been an indulgence, I know – and I make no apologies – but I needed a break. Here’s a shadow of a bicycle seat in my back yard that needed a beak. I ditched my favoured dot for a triangle…..lol

Cameras either OM1 or OMD. Zuiko lenses….

‘I’m no twitcher, but I know a bird when I see one.’

As a photographer I can relate to the ‘twitcher’; the keen bird-watcher who chases sightings of rare birds. Chasing that elusive shot, the less successful days far outnumbering the successful ones. The defining moments, after 40-odd years, able to be counted on my fingers: no less exciting than the discovery of a rare visiting goose on the Thames marshes.

I am never out and about with birds on my mind, they tend to be incidental. Even as subject I find them accidentally so, for what birds will do is difficult to anticipate. Luck often plays an important part:

I quite like those silent moments required by the photographer – armed with a longest focal length of only 80mm – in order to not scare a subject away:

This approach is not necessary when there are more birds than you can shake a stick at in some public space, and they are looking upon you as provider:

Birds are the stuff of legends and beliefs; swans, in particular crop up in lore and legend. I understand that they mate for life, though divorce sometimes happens (who knows that?):

The Kiss and a Lover Spurned, Lincoln, UK 2016

I was out not so long ago with a pal who is an excellent drone photographer: the machine created some interest, rather alarmingly I thought, with a local flock:

I’ll finish with my favourite. I thought there was something of a reverential about this bird, overseeing a temple-like setting. In fact, it was beneath houses built on piles above the swamp where the very limits of Greater Bangkok meet the Gulf of Thailand:

Thanks for visiting, as usual the photographs were made using an Olympus OMD and a Zuiko short zoom lens.